Poker Face
by s2lou
Summary: A oneshot I wrote after I noticed that Yusaku Kudo was always smiling. Reviews are not unwelcome. Not at all. Chap 3: Cousins, rivals, thieves and detectives
1. Poker Face

**Author's note: Don't own anything, blah, blah, blah… I don't actually think Gosho Aoyama would come and write English fics here.**

**Here's another fic about Kudo Yusaku… I like that character, don't know why. Could be a sequel to "Like Father, like son", but as this one is slightly AU, I just posted it as another oneshot.**

---------

Today is his death's birthday.

Those words always struck me as absolutely meaningless. At first, being a writer, it was such an interesting sentence to study. Until then. Until that morning when I read in the papers that Kuroba Touichi had died in a tragic accident during one of his magician shows.

Kuroba Touichi. Or else, Kudo Touichi, my eldest brother.

So now I'm standing, ten years later, in front of his tomb.

Got no idea why I'm here. I didn't even go to the funeral, so that I could avoid embarrassing questions. And after so long a time spent chasing him as Kid, how could I have decently shown up? What for? Comforting his wife and child? I'm not even sure they knew about me.

I haven't though about our childhood in years. But now, in the silent cemetery, years and years of laughter and cries are coming back to commemorate.

---------

"_Kudo! Kudo, come over here!"_

"_Yes, sir?"_

"_Yes, sir?"_

"You_, stop acting as if you didn't know I'm looking for your brother," the teacher pointed an accusative finger at me, "and _you… you…_" he had turned to Touichi, who was carelessly sitting on my desk, "don't you think you're going to escape!"_

_Touichi looked disconcerted at first, then grinned. "Why would I, sir?" he said with such a sarcastic voice everyone around knew he was openly thinking the teacher a baboon._

"_You know perfectly why!" the professor stammered with rage. "You have no excuse, Kudo!"_

"_Come again, sir?" Touichi asked politely._

_Students were beginning to gather around with interest. Nobody ever dared to play this insolently with the teachers but Kudo Touichi-kun. My brother looked around, as if interested, obviously delighted to have such an audience._

"_Are you playing with me, Kudo?" the professor asked, shivering with anger._

"_I wouldn't, sir," Touichi said, his lips twitching into a quick smirk._

"_Better not. Now, what the reasons why you thought you were allowed to make an aviary of the teachers' room?" the teacher yelled. _

_Touichi frowned. "An aviary, sir?"_

"_There are two hundred pigeons up there!"_

_Half of he class burst out laughing. Touichi himself had an apologizing smile._

"_All right," he said, as if thinking very quickly, "and what makes you think those pigeons are mine?"_

_The professor looked on the _very_ edge of falling over. He, however, glared at my brother._

"_You are the only crazy guy who breeds two hundred pigeons, Kudo!" he burst out. His hands, I noticed under he desk, were clenching to two very strong fists. More laughter came up meanwhile._

"_Insulting your students," my brother said, his smile growing wider. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Before the teacher's punch had time to hit him – and it was coming fast -, he disappeared in a puff and a cloud of white smoke._

_When it cleared, there were two more pigeons on the professor's head, quietly pecking at his hair._

_-------_

People always thought _I _was the eldest, because I was so much more calm and serious. Our parents didn't really care about what he was doing at school as long as he got good marks – which he always did, always wondered how. Even after the disastrous event of the two hundred pigeons in teachers' room, I was the only one who ever told him off.

--------

"_Ahh, quit playing the big guy, Yuu-chan," my brother said, leaning over the desk where I was writing. "It _was_ funny, admit it! You couldn't help chuckling at one time."_

"_I didn't," I said, glaring at him. "Besides, I'm not talking for the teacher – but you're going to be in trouble, Touichi. And the trouble is that you're always causing problems in _my_ class. Is there no way you can let me work?"_

"_Is that what you're doing? Writing?" He bent, trying to see what I was scribbling. "You're only writing, bro."_

"Only writing?_" You want me to talk about your magic tricks, right?"_

"_All right, all right," he sat straight, laughing._

"_Look," I said, putting my pen down, "I'm not blaming you or anything…"_

"_Sure you don't," he smirked._

"… _But you're the eldest so people expect you to assume your responsibilities…"_

"_Blah blah blah," Touichi said with a snigger, and threw a Norwegian flag at me._

"_Hey! Where did that came from?"_

_He looked down in his jeans' pocket, then inside his sleeves. "No idea."_

_I pointed at his front pocket. "What's in there?"_

"_Dunno… let's see…" he got out a long, very, very long, green and red scarf._

"_Shouldn't have asked," I pouted, returning to my writing._

"_Wait… it's not over… what's this? Oh, a ball… no, an egg… what do you think? egg or ball?" he asked, putting it before my nose._

_I shot a glance at it. "It's an egg." I pushed him away." Dyed in red. Is it a real one?"_

"_Beats me… let's see…" he tossed it carelessly on my desk._

"_Touichi!" I exclaimed, but the egg didn't break. I leaned against my chair, sighing._

_My brother had that Cheshire cat-like grin again. "Okay, so what's left… this…" he got out another flag, a Swedish one this time, "this, gee, I had forgotten those…" he got out a pair of dice, "some cards…" he got a set of them, "hey, what's this?" he got out a big, white hat and monocle, "oh, it's from my old magician outfit… a– wouah! pigeon…" something white fluttered before my eyes, "and… what's that here for?" He frowned at the red rose he had just found._

"_Touichi," I said. "Those dice are loaded."_

"_Well, of course they are," he said, not even looking at me. "I wouldn't be a magician if they weren't…"_

_He snapped his fingers, and the rose disappeared. At the same time, a white pigeon appeared from nowhere._

"_This is cheating," I pouted._

"_What did you expect from me, to do real magic?" he said with irritation. "They're tricks, Yuu-chan, not…" he pulled a tinsel out of his right sleeve, "miracles. Really, you should think about it," he tossed a cloud of confetti over both our heads, "and _stop _acting as if I was a criminal. I'm just doing magic," a few more pigeons burst out from mid-air, "though I think being a thief should be…" he snapped his fingers again and some four balls leaped in his hands, "…fun."_

_I gave up. He was juggling now, surrounded by tinsels, pigeons, and glittering confetti. When he was in such a mood nothing could reach him._

_Then, suddenly, he gave a shrug, a clap of his hands, and everything disappeared. I didn't even flinch. I had seen that hundreds of times._

"_So I'll leave you to you writing, I have to practise now," he turned my hair a very ill-looking shade of mauve, "but really, you should stop acting that seriously, Niisan, he added before exiting dancingly._

_---------_

Niisan. He always called me that way, even though _he_ was the eldest. In his mind, it probably was a way to show how much he would have loved to be the younger brother, and be able to live the way he dreamed.

Our father wanted him to take over the family's business after him, but Touichi had always wished to be a magician for a living, not simply as a spare time. Neither of them, however, really argued about it, each thinking the other would give up first. It went on, until they had a _big_ argument over it, one evening soon after my brother's eighteenth birthday. The same night, Touichi packed up a few things and left, and, for three years, we didn't hear about him at all.

Some time before my first novel was published, we heard that he had changed his name for Kuroba, and was producing himself in magician shows. When he was twenty-five, he sent us a very formal, cold note, inviting us to his wedding. Father got a fit of anger, did not reply, and nobody went, though I remember Mother picking up the card afterwards and keeping it preciously.

I had left home too, back then, living in a flat of my own. I missed him, of course – he was my brother, and I loved him – but I never showed anything of it. Only a few friends actually knew I wasn't an only child, but when _they_ asked me whether I wouldn't go and see him, I smiled and said nothing.

Poker Face.

It was something we had learned from a clown, during a visit to a circus, when we were around eight. He had aught us how to keep one, single face up, never showing the feelings we had to keep hidden beneath the mask. I don't think, though, he actually thought we would stick to it.

He was wrong.

Month after month, year after year, we each built our own poker face. His was that arrogant, conceited grin, and mine was a much calmer, friendlier smile. We never talked about it between us, but we both knew it, knew it was a role we used to hide our real feelings.

That's why I instantly recognised him, when 1412 appeared for the first time. Yukiko and I were married, and I remember three-months-old Shinichi yelling in the background when I jumped and nearly spilled my coffee on the paper's front page, where my brother's face – Poker Face, was grinning up at me.

It wasn't actually my brother whom I recognised. I don't even think father or mother ever knew who he was. His hat and monocle hid half of his face, and he had grown a light moustache. But that smile, that grin, that smirk, that sneer, there was no way I couldn't notice it.

_I'm only doing magic tricks, though I think being a thief should be fun._

Fun.

Two days later, I wrote an article about him, changing his name his 1412 surname into Kid. It was something I had found out when we were kids, that when distorting the numbers of 1412, one could get the word Kid. It was no coincidence if he had chosen that very name, so that I would turn it into Kid. He meant me to.

Thus began our relationship, no more as brother, but as rivals.

Our first meeting was short and meaningless to anyone but us. It had been ten years. His Poker Face and mine, finally facing each other again.

---------

_It was nighttime. I was sitting on a bench before the case where the jewel was kept, wondering how Kid planned to steal it. There were policemen everywhere, and no possible escape. Nakamori-kebu said they would catch him this time, but I knew my brother. He had certainly managed a way out. And if I couldn't find it, then what was I doing here?_

_It probably wasn't in the jewel's room itself. It was too small, and crowded. The other floors were less, but they were too far, and the stairs were a risky place. So the other way he could get out was either the window or the roof. And he was no bird – no wings._

_I rubbed my forehead painfully. What trick had he prepared this time? He may have been a genius, he was not a ghost, able to cross the walls and make himself invisible._

_The owner of the gem checked the case carefully, told a few words to Nakamori-kebu, then noticed me._

"_Hem… you are…?"_

"_Kudo Yusaku, glad to meet you."_

"_Ah, yes, Nakamori-san told me about you. He said you'd help to catch that thief. But really, what could a simply writer do when twenty policemen are there to survey the jewel?"_

_I gritted my teeth. "I'm a mystery writer, sir, as you may know. I have quite an experience…"_

"_Oh, if you think you can have fun, go ahead… just try not to bother the inspector's work!"_

_He went away laughing. I let him laugh… thought a few seconds… then an incredible, disastrous idea struck me._

"_Hey! what are you doing!" Nakamori-san exclaimed when he saw me leap to the case._

_I didn't answer, just checking the gem. And like I had thought, it was a fake one._

_I instantly run towards the stairs, leaving poor Nakamori-san quite puzzled._

_He wouldn't have gone down, there were too many policemen. But the roof… unless he had an URL waiting for him there – and I hadn't seen any when I checked it – he couldn't escape. If he was there, he was caught._

_At this idea, I felt my heart sink a little£. I guess that when I ran up the staircase, it was with the paradoxical envy to arrest him and to save him._

_And, like I had guessed, he was standing on the roof when I arrived to it. He had left his disguise and was now wearing his work clothes. I had no idea how he had managed to put them on in so short a period of time – or where he had kept the top hat and the white cloak._

_His back was turned at me but he looked at me over his shoulder._

"_So you had figured out, writer-san?" he asked playfully._

_My brother's voice. I nearly fell over._

"_Indeed," I answered._

_He turned completely and grinned at me. I responded with a smile. I then realized how much I had missed him._

"_The police won't last," I said. "And there's no way you can escape, is there?"_

_He shook his head. "Seems not. Hey, here!"_

_He threw something at me. I caught it before understanding what it was._

_The gem he had stolen. The gem… this made no sense._

_I looked up at him. He was standing on the very edge of the roof. He shrugged. "Not the one I was looking for. Maybe next time."_

"_What?"_

_He grinned more broadly and jumped in the air. I gasped and ran for him, but he was too far._

_Then…_

_Then he rose in the air. His cloak had turned into a hand glider._

"_I see," I said. "So that's it."_

_He tipped his hat at me and turned away, disappearing just when the rest of the task force emerged on the roof._

--------

I didn't go to everyone of his heists, only the important ones. He was cleverer than he used to be, but so, probably, was I. The simple tricks he used to fool the police and poor Officer Nakamori didn't work on le, and we both were aware of it. I knew him ever since he was a child; I knew his strength and his weaknesses. Between us it wasn't a catch-me-if-you-can chase, but a fight, a real duel between two people of equal minds and reactions.

My aim wasn't to arrest him – he was my _brother_ – but to take to jewels away from him. His aim…

Apart from his heists, we only met once. It was in summer, in a public park where I had taken Shinichi playing. And he was there too, with his wife and son. We only shared one look, not a word. No one could have suspected we were brothers. So the only thing we did was watching our sons playing.

Shinichi and Kaito – so I heard his mother call him – played along for a little while, ignoring that they were cousins, ignoring that time and future would bring them together again, not as playmates anymore, but as rivals.

Then, when Shinichi was ten, Touichi died, and Kid was gone.

And that was it.

Years flowed in, however; time didn't stop after that. Slowly, Kid faded out in everyone's memory, ending up forgotten, like a myth lost in the past.

One day, however, I met Kaito-kun in the street.

He was around seventeen – and at first I thought he was Shinichi. The two of them look so alike, much more than Touichi and I ever did.

But Kaito's hair is messier, Shinichi's a bit taller – yet their eyes, their blue eyes, are so much the same.

He was walking in the street, talking with a girl with brown hair._ She_ was almost Ran's double – they have the same taste. It was clear he was damn in love with her, even though I think he would never admit it – at least, not now.

Our eyes met for a second, then he turned away, with a careless look in his eyes, an arrogant, yet innocent smirk twitching his lips.

He is Kid now, and his white wings are spreading again in Tokyo's black sky. He is not yet as good a thief as his father was, but he'll be, I guess. He's like Shinichi, in a way.

Shinichi, now his rival. Being a tantei, a phantom thief such as Kid is too interesting a prey to let it go away. I expected this for a long time – that he'd find an enemy as clever as he is, an equal.

Like in a very long tale where nobody knows who will win in the end.

Time has gone by… people changed… what they call their present is now our past. A new generation of thieves and detectives, taking over what their fathers left behind. I can see their fight through the papers, through every heist and every case, I can see the steps they take, the answers they search, the masks they pick then leave in the shadows where they are lost, as in a strange waltz which no one understands.

It's their turn now, ours is gone, Touichi.

I wipe away a lonely tear, which is probably just an illusion onto my Poker Face.

"Kudo-san?"

My head shots up. Through an oddly blurred vision, I can distinguish a female silhouette – familiar silhouette…

"Kuroba-san."

Touichi's wife.

And what can I do now? How can I explain my presence here?

She remarks my hesitation and says, "He told me."

"Told you… what?"

"That you were brothers."

I can literally feel my eyes widen. She smiles, a slightly sad smile, the one she must always wear. The mourning one. The loving one.

"Ah…" I turn my head away, "Hem, won't you sit down?"

"Sure." And so she does.

I have a ton of questions to ask her. And at the same time, none.

"When did he tell you?"

She smiles, remembering. "It was the day he proposed to me. We walked a lot that night, and, well… he told me everything nobody knew but him. All the things he ha refused to think about, always… and how much he missed… all of those things. Missed you too."

I shook my head. "Miss the teasing over my writing, certainly."

She chuckles. I look at her. "Yes, he told me about that…" she giggles, "dozens of times… he loved it. You know… we have everyone of your books at home."

Now I'm staring at her.

"He's always been very critic about _Of blood and tears_, but _Jewellery_ has always been one of his favourite novels."

I smile – a quick, shy smile, like a child's. "I actually wrote it… hoping he would read it one day or other."

"Well, he did. Say… do you miss him very much?"

Okay. Something I understood about this woman… she always says what one would never expect. In a novel, she would say something like, _"He could always identify with the hero"_, or maybe, "_He never could tell you, but…"_ and so on.

But this is no novel. Just the words of a wife for her late husband.

"Yes. Very much." And now the words just escaped me. "Rhem… you?"

"Yes, of course. Sometimes at night I wake up and think I can see him entering the room by climbing up the window like he used to do, careful to keep silent so as to let me sleep." The corner of her mouth twitches. "After all, I've always been in love with a phantom."

To hear her speak of the life she used to live with my brother makes me feel quite odd. We keep silent, until she asks, "And how is your wife, hem… Yukiko? And your son?"

"Oh, they're both… well, I think. Shinichi's on his own now. He begins to be quite famous as a detective, in spite of his one-year's absence."

"Ah, yes… he's the one… Kid's rival, isn't he?"

"… yes. What about your son… Kaito?"

"He's fine. I feel a bit lonely since he left home… but he's okay. Much better than he's ever been since Touichi's death – probably thanks to Aoko."

Silence parts us and I hardly hear her whisper, "He loved his father so much."

Rivals. Rivals Touichi and I were, rivals our sons shall be… they keep fighting their endless duel, ignoring how closely they're related and shall always be. They yet haven't uncovered the truth, but they will one day, I trust them upon that. After all they are a thief and detective.

They will.

I'll watch over them, hoping they won't hurt each other too much.

And you will too, won't you?

Niisan?


	2. Watching over

**Author's note: I was revising the first chapter of this, then suddenly thought: 'If there's **_**two **_**brothers, why should I keep this fic to **_**one**_** chapter?' A logical little voice objected, 'Yeah, right, but Touichi's dead, blah, blah,' an enthusiast little voice exclaimed, 'That's all right! Let's make him a ghost or something!' and this was born.**

**Of course, both Kudo Yusaku and Kuroba Touichi are the sole property of Gosho-sensei, I merely changed the name of the latter.**

**-----**

Brotherhood.

Such a fine, interesting word. It expresses, or rather it can express, so many kinds of relationships – friendship, love, childhood, shared experiences, rivalry, maybe, on some occasions, resentment and hate.

And, sometimes, even trust.

So many feelings and sensations, all mingled in a single word, three syllables, eleven letters. Two lives, two minds, and everything that ever linked them both.

Knowing you, you probably inspected it from every angle, wondering if it could provide you with any source of inspiration. In all likelihood, you studied every meaning the word could take, you tried to place yourself in all the situations you could find, to use it as an item in your writing. You weighed it, felt it, polished it, understood it under the illogical and the reasonable, you did everything in your power to be as familiar with it as humanly possible. You've always been like that, making the best of what was within your reach, words, objects, people, situations.

And it is certain our own brotherhood supplied you with tons of them, Kudo Yusaku.

-

"_Touichi…"_

"_Touichi!"_

"_TOUICHI!"_

_I opened my eyes – a bit drowsily, I must admit – up into the face of my beloved brother, who looked angry, indignant, repressive and, in general, pissed off. That usually meant that I had done something wrong. Of that something wrong had been done to me. More generally, I was in trouble._

_I took a good look around. This was my classroom – a bit more bluish than usual, maybe, but so it was. Calm, which didn't happen often, but so far normal… if of course, the Christmas decorations and wallpapers – in June – didn't count. Nor the sequins glittering in the air. Nor the bridal march echoing from nowhere in particular. Nor the hats and flags and cards and ribbons spread all over the floor. I rather liked the way chairs had been turned into pumpkins. My dreams must have been agitated… in more than one way._

_The living race was represented as well – there were about two hundred white pigeons on the tables and blackboards, obviously wondering what they were doing on tables and blackboards, about the same amount of rabbits gazing at the pumpkins, obviously wondering whether they were edible. Half of the students had had their hair dyed red, and were obviously wondering why they had, while the other half were (obviously) wondering why they _hadn't.

_My brother was part of the second part, minus the wondering. He was however, wrapped in shiny tinsels, and wearing a Santa Claus red hat._

"_You did all that in your sleep," he pointed out._

_Of course I had – nobody else could, could one? I gazed inquisitively at him, wonder– no, asking myself why writers always spoke the obvious and why I hadn't dyed his hair red too – it would have matched his tie quite nicely._

"Again,_" he added, his cold stare turning to pure iceberg._

_When Yusaku was pissed, he _was_ pissed – and consequently, I went back to sleep._

_-_

You were the kind of guy who kept his feet on the ground. I wasn't. In your world, everything had its right place. If your life wasn't simple, it was at least sensible and reasonable. You found words for what surrounded you, and devoted your being to understanding and assimilating what was beyond the reach of your mind.

My world was the precise opposite. What I loved were mysteries, and knowing that some would never be solved made me shiver with excitement. My whole life was a stage haunted with masks and dreams vanishing in thin air – nothing was ever the same, everything always changed. No matter if I was blind. Living in illusions suited me fine.

-

_I stormed out of the living-room and up the staircase, oblivious of my father bawling behind me. The slamming o my bedroom door probably echoed through the whole house, but I didn't pay attention to it._

_I didn't have much to take with me – not in a suitcase, that is. A piece of cloth, some cash, my papers… food for pigeons… I looked around the room, realizing this was the last time I would ever be in it._

_I wasn't sorry._

_I had already rent a small flat in downtown Tokyo, only a few days before. I intended to announce it publicly soon afterwards and move out before the end of the week. Things hadn't exactly turned like I thought they would, but the result was even._

_I reached for my jacket and closed the door behind me;_

_Yusaku was waiting for me in the hall._

"_So," he said, eyeing the bag on my shoulder. "You're leaving."_

"_Yeah," I said fiercely, but he added nothing to give me an account of his thoughts about it. Instead, he shrugged._

"_I knew you would one day." He nodded at the sitting-room door, beyond which our father was probably choking with indignation. "He'll be furious."_

"_He'll be relieved," I mocked. "Hell, and so will you. No one to tease you over your writing now."_

_He gave me small Poker-Faced smile. "Yeah, right. Well, take care of yourself."_

"_Take care of Mother," I said in a graver tone, suddenly remembering I was the elder brother._

"_Are you being _serious_?" he said unbelievingly._

_I smirked at him. "Never." I snapped my fingers and two white pigeons perched on my shoulders. "Say goodbye, guys."_

_I opened the front door as they fluttered their wings at Yusaku, who waved back gently. A gust of cold wind hit me with the strength of a tempest._

"_You're really an idiot," my brother said in my back._

_I took a deep breath, then grinned at him over my shoulder. "Gee, love you too, Niisan." _

_I walked out, closing the door on him, the lit hall, and my whole childhood._

_-_

Niisan. I always called you that way. Your interpretation about it is a right one, but there's something you never knew – and now, unfortunately, I won't be able to tell you. The niisan epithet was a disguised way to show my respect for you. That's right. I did respect you – in my way – more than anyone else in the family. Mother was a cream puff, and I loved her all right – in the old man's case, it was the exact contrary. You were different. You were a smartass as well as an arrogant mind – we weren't brothers for nothing. You were the only one who knew me, how to calm me, how to cool my fits of anger or of performing.

Away from the family, I breathed fresh air for the first time. Maybe you'll never really understand what it meant to me. I needed freedom, space to move in, time as my own. I had chosen to go away, of my own will – and though I was sorry to leave you behind, I knew you were high-tempered enough not to be controlled by our father. One day, I thought, we would see each other again.

It was three years later, as I began my career as a magician and started dating the woman who would become my wife, that I first met them. You know who they are. You, but more especially your son, have already collapsed with them. After all, they did kill your brother.

They murdered her father. Outwardly, it was a heart attack – I only happened to learn it by chance eavesdropping during the burial. Why they had come back, I didn't know, but obviously they had killed him because he'd heard about them. Because he _knew_ about them. He was a police officer.

It sounds caustic, know, that my whole destiny and my own death were decided on that fateful day in the deserted cemetery.

I don't know how they didn't see me, but I did follow them and spied them for two whole weeks. What I learned about them left me numb with horror. I realized that my own ambition was nothing compared to theirs: immortal life, none the less. Whatever they had to do to get at it didn't matter to them.

When they talked about Pandora for the first time, I really thought they were crazy. Such a… legend was simply unbelievable. I couldn't conceive they'd kill people for it. The more I thought about it, though, the more it struck me that whether it was true or not, trustworthy or not, wasn't exactly the important bit. What was really frightening was that nobody would get in their way, otherwise killed. No one suspected them. No one _saw_ them. If they caught me, I was dead for sure. They wouldn't tell me, 'Oh, well, you discovered our secret; we're mad scientist searching for eternity. Now please go away and of course don't tell anyone.' They wouldn't even give me a fleeing chance.

I've always loved danger.

1412 was born the following night as I couldn't find sleep, my newly-made fiancée resting on my shoulder, cuddled up against my chest. There were dried tears on her cheeks, her slumber wasn't even peaceful. Because of them.

It took me years to conceive him in his finest details. Criminal or not, I wanted him to keep as bright as a shooting star, to awaken as a legend – more, as a dream. Do you know why I called myself Kuroba? _Black Feather_ isn't a very appropriate name for a magician. For a thief, however, it is. I had started with dreams of a perfect world, but meeting them had made me realize that nothing was entirely white. And there I was, a criminal. A peculiar kind of one, but one nevertheless. If I was ever caught, it was jail and I knew it.

Meanwhile, I got married, you did too – hell, I was even at your wedding, working on my comedian skills, it apparently worked – you had a son and I did too. Kaito was a rosy, wrinkled, shouting piece of son when Kid arose for the first time from Arsene Lupin's embers.

You immediately reacted. I knew you would – this was a challenge, a defy to your little grey cells. It was in your blood, and in a way we'd always been rivals. Each of us had opposite convictions, different aims, and Poker Faces that had forgotten their resemblances, but when they faced each other again it was like gaining back something we'd lost years ago. With a few sentences, one look at one another, and we were brothers again.

-

_It was nighttime. I looked over at Yusaku after snatching the jewel away from its case with thirty policemen in the room, and not one remarking what I'd done. He was sitting on a bench, his brows furrowed. He hadn't changed much, I noticed while exchanging a few words with Nakamori-keibu, he was my brother all right._

_He looked up at me as I approached him._

"_Hem… you are?"_

"_Kudo Yusaku," he said, extending a and for me to shake it, "glad to meet you."_

_My mask nearly slipped away at the sound of his same, confident, composed voice. Poker Face, I thought, rapidly snatching to a look of amused commiseration. "Ah, yes, Nakamori-san told me you'd help to catch that…" I left the last word trail off disdainfully, "thief. But really, what could a sole writer do when twenty policemen are there to survey the jewel?"_

_He gritted his teeth, obviously upset. _Touché_, I thought. "I'm a mystery writer, sir, as you may know. I have quite an experience…"_

_I waved my hand dismissfully, already turning away. "Oh, if you think you can have fun, go ahead… just try to bother the inspector's work!"_

_My laughter, as I made my discreet getaway, wasn't fake. Kid, I thought; was now a real, whole entity – I had passed the last test successfully, I had fooled my own brother. Not for long, tough – I fed very little illusions as to when he would start after me._

_I ran up the stairs up to the roof. Cool, night wind greeted me there, the old friend from since was eighteen, brushing against me and rushing into my cape. I advanced to the very edge of the roof, where the adrenaline was the strongest – a few more minutes, and I would fly again._

_Yusaku slammed the door open exactly on time. I looked at him over my shoulder._

"_So you finally figured out, writer-san?" I asked playfully._

"_Indeed," he answered, his voice as severe as when he was telling me off for sending two hundred pigeons up in teachers' room._

_I turned completely and grinned at him. He responded with a smile. Poker Faces, back in time._

_I had missed that._

"_The police won't last," he said as though it was really an unimportant matter. "And there is no way you can escape, is there?"_

_I shook my head. "Seems not. Hey, here!"_

_I observed him as he caught the gem. He frowned at it for a moment, then lifted the frown at me, a question in his blue eyes. I shrugged._

"_Not the one I was looking for." Pandora. Pandora. Pandora. "Maybe next time."_

_His frown turned to puzzlement – that was a rare sight on Kudo Yusaku's face. "What?"_

_I grinned more broadly and jumped from the roof. In a glimpse, I saw him start and run for me, probably thinking I was committing suicide. The fall and adrenaline chocked my lungs – the feelings of rushing through air drumming in my ear – a million lights in one blurred glance, between the ground and the black sky – then I opened my handglider, lifting me back up, in one abrupt jolt, at the roof's level._

"_I see," he said when our eyes met. "So that's it."_

_I tipped my hat at him and turned away._

_Our home wasn't far. I landed on the first floor's balcony, entering my bedroom through the window as always. In my bed was Hiromi's resting figure, which shifted when I joined her in._

"_How did the heist go?" she mumbled in the pillow._

"_Fine." After a few minutes' silence, "Yusaku was there."_

_She turned completely to me, her eyes filled with worry._

"_Your brother?"_

_I nodded without a word – her concern increased. "What happened?"_

"_Not much." I grinned. "We exchanged a few pleasantries."_

"_Touichi." Her hand brushed my cheek. "What _really _happened?"_

_I kept silent for a couple of seconds, scanning her face as her fingers caressed my jawline – medium or not, she looked lovely._

_I buried my face in my shoulder. "It's all right. I knew it would happen that way. I knew there would be only rivalry between us from now on. It's just… I had hoped that once, only once, we could talk like brothers again."_

_She wrapped her arms around me and held me close, keeping silent. We remained in that embrace for long minutes, valuing each other's presence. Ever since her father had died, we entertained a relation where each was the other's life preserver._

_I finally straightened a little, fingers running in her black hair. "Kaito's asleep?"_

_She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "He shouted for you all evening but, yes, he's sleeping."_

_I grinned. "Good."_

_We had barely started kissing when an infant's piercing cry shot through the silence._

_Hiromi looked at me. "Your turn."_

_-_

Meeting during the heists was interesting. You're right, we were on into a duel. When you were there to try and catch me, I never thought as a certainty that I was going to make it. Some would have got nervous and clumsy in such situations – it was only a thrill to me. I had to revise my tricks and traps when you were in the area – you wouldn't fall for the fools' plays I fed Nakamori-keibu and his men. With you, I needed labyrinths, veils, masks – a comedy of every second. If I failed, if my face cracked, it was over.

As I said, a thrill.

Our sole meeting as civilians was of the silent kind. One look – and we both looked away, as cold and polite as strangers. Our sons played together in the small park, a chance meeting that wouldn't repeat itself 'till a decade.

Something happened then, something that I was alone to see. Whatever it was – a distortion? an illusion? – it didn't last two seconds. But during this short period of time, in lieu and place of the two children playing over a red fire truck, I saw young men. Nearly alike, as if siblings – one was standing with one hand in the matching pocket, his face serious and his eyes cold – the other looked more careless, responding with a wry smile. A white cloak flapped before my eyes as he turned slightly in my direction – then the children were back, seven-years-olds that knew nothing of their mutual future.

Rivals. Always have been, always will be.

You saw nothing. I'm sure. Maybe you sensed something, but hat was all. Your composure would have changed – Poker Face or not – only a little if you had.

I'm not sure why I had this vision that day. Maybe because being a writer, you put words on dreams, while I did the exact opposite. Maybe that's why I was the one to catch this glimpse from our sons' future, and you weren't.

I died three years later. Kaito had just turned ten. Seven years would wear off, at the end of which he would discover that I had actually been murdered, and would take over the mask. Legends just never die, hence they are forgotten, lost in the past.

I am now but the ghost of the magician and thief I used to be. The passion of a lifetime, and feelings, sensations I only lived for. Everything that was my home, everything that was my heart – all vanishing, out of sight, out if existence. Tiredness. That's the only thing left – incomplete dreams, precious sorrows, distraught illusions, unfulfilled wishes – a cool wind, a night breeze.

Darkness.

I heard your silent call last night. You and my Hiromi sat in the cemetery, meeting at last. Uniting past and present, talking about future. I heard your words as you thought them, and for a moment I though you looked at me. Without blinking, without turning away – did you know I was there? You almost smiled, as though you understood that I was with you, with you all.

You talked about Kaito and Shinichi. You're right, one day they'll uncover the truth. One thief, one tantei, one family. They're going to freak out.

I trust them, though. They'll achieve what we haven't been able to do. Even though, before that, they'll suffer much more than we did. They're both so young, too young to be involved in such a perilous position. This is a job for which men have been killed, and they're barely in their twenties – and yet, even if they can be killed tomorrow, at the corner of the street, they keep on.

I'm proud of my son, but I'm worried. Not only about the Organization. Slowly, he discovers what being Kid actually means. Just like Shinichi did, he'll imprison himself in his mask and loneliness. I hope Aoko'll be there to help him when the moment comes.

I'll be watching over. But from where I am I can't do much, only gaze and shout. So I entrust you with them, Yuu-chan. Him and her – my wife, my son. They're my family. My world. My everything.

I trust you.

Niisan.

-

**It was actually hard to write that. What did you think? Does it match the first chapter? Review and comment!**


	3. Cousins, rivals, thieves and detectives

**Author's note: Neither Magic Kaito nor Detective Conan are mine. (No kidding…)**

**So. This was meant to be a oneshot, then it turned out as a two shots, well, now, it's a trilogy. There are only two brothers? Yeah, I know, but they had sons, didn't they? **

**------**

Cousins, rivals, thieves and detectives

------

The first time they met they were seven.

And they had no idea.

-

_The other boy, thought Shinichi, looked very much like himself – but for the hair, which was so wild even a bulldozer wouldn't have smoothed it down. A small deductive voice at the back of his young mind – the one he would later on discover as his instinct – told him that such a likeness could only be explained by some kind of blood relationship, but he decided to interpret it as a mere coincidence._

_On the other hand, Kaito didn't stoop to such primary considerations. But he did feel that this boy in front of him looked _way_ too serious for his age, and immediately began thinking over a Kaito-ish way to make him – a feeling which he would, in future years, get pretty much used to. _

_First contact and first conversation were rapidly dealed with – they were in that age when anyone, mostly anything, if well disposed, can be considered in a few seconds as a nice friend._

_The principal matter of their relationship's beginning consisted in a red firetruck, belonging to no one in particular – and, had they been normal kids, it would have stayed so. But they weren't. And Kaito was quite eager to perform his newest tricks to such a comprehensive playmate._

_He produced a red rose, the kind of one that would become his usual trademark in the future – but, unlike Aoko's utter delight some six months before, Shinichi frowned and asked, "How did you do that?"_

_Kaito closed his hand back on the disappearing rose with a pouting face – this wasn't exactly the sort of reaction he'd expected. "A magician never reveals his secrets," he said with dignity, and a grin almost alike to his ten-years older, Kid one._

"_Did you do it alone?" Shinichi asked, more interested._

"_Oto-san taught me." He pointed at his father, on a bench behind him._

_Shinichi tilted his head to peep over Kaito's shoulder, and gazed. Touichi gazed back with a tranquil smile._

"_Ah, really," Shinichi, a bit disappointed, said. He didn't see much of a magician in this good-looking man and his dandy-like mustache._

_(He would have been more impressed, had he known that, three weeks hence, the very man would defy him to solve one peculiar enigma, and keep him out-of-doors and away from Sherlock Holmes for one whole day.)_

"My_ dad's a detective," he said._

_Kaito showed his interest with a few tinsels and pigeons. Shinichi pointed, Kaito gazed, Yusaku gazed back, Kaito 'ah, really'-ed, and full attention was given back to the firetruck._

_Such a subject, however, necessarily led them to the 'I want to be a magician' and 'I want to be a detective' talks, both stimulated by a mutual affection for excitement, adrenaline, Holmes, and Lupin._

_Shinichi was delighted. Usually, when he told other kids about his ambition, they immediately said they wanted to be firemen or astronauts and began playing as such, and that was the end of the discussion._

_Kaito, on the other hand, was actually thrilled. A detective would probably quickly make out his simplest tricks. He'd have to find others, better-skilled ones that would not only fool him but the rest of the world with him._

"_I've already solved cases with my father," Shinichi was saying with animation. "But when I'm a grown-up I'll be famous – and so will you! We'll be known all around the world!"_

"_Then we could team up," said Kaito, genially. "A magician and a detective together and no one would escape us."_

"_Eh, yeah," Shinichi enthused. "Let's make that an arrangement."_

_(He didn't quite know what the word meant, but he thought it fitted in quite well.)_

_Having no paper and pen within reach, they knitted their littlest fingers and swore to meet again in…_

"_Five years," Kaito suggested. _

"_No – ten years," Shinichi rectified. "Then we'll be six… seventeen."_

_Kaito nodded, then exclaimed, as though struck by the idea, "Let's meet again under the clock tower." He pointed at the large shape of the building hanging over the small park where they were playing. "There's no way we could miss it."_

_Shinichi made no objection, and they both launched into a narration of their common adventures when they'd be seventeen._

_Kuroba Touichi had been talking in his phone for quite a while already. He then closed it rapidly, and joined his son in a smart lap._

"_Time to go, Kaito."_

"_Aww, but _Dad!_" Kaito immediately complained – he was a capricious little boy, and hasn't changed ever since. "Can't we stay a little longer?"_

"_I'm afraid we can't," his father grinned. "Your mother's already saying we're late for dinner."_

_The two boys pouted at the same time, the same expression on their almost identical faces, and turned to each other. "We'll meet again," they said together._

"'_Course you will," Touichi said dramatically. (Showman! thought Yusaku who was watching the three of them with amusement.) "In ten years' time."_

_He hoisted his son on his shoulders. "Come on, kiddo, off we go."_

_Kaito turned to Shinichi and shouted, "See you in ten years!"_

"_See you!" Shinichi shouted back, and waved. He ran to his dad to tell him all about this oh-so-exciting meeting and the great afternoon he'd had, and was surprised to find him doubled up with laughter on his bench._

"_Dad?" Kaito asked as they made their way out of the part and walked along the clock tower. "Why are you smiling?"_

"_Nothing for."_

_-_

No idea.

They didn't know they were cousins. They didn't know their fathers were brothers, although endless rivals.

Nor that themselves wouldn't meet till a decade, their promise then long lost and forgotten.

Nor that their dreams would be fulfilled when that moment came, one being a world-famous detective, the other a magician thief.

They didn't know that when they would collapse with each other they would be rivals as well, taking after their dads, and that they would remember nothing of their previous appointment.

And when they did meet again they had no idea they were actually keeping said appointment.

-

_Although Kaito Kid was presently shooting Nakamori-keibu's talkie away, Kuroba Kaito's mind was wandering in the copter that flew so close to the clock tower. There was someone in there; someone who seemed determined to catch him. Someone clever._

_He'd told Nakamori he had a particularly smart assistant tonight, but he knew better – he'd had to disguise as everyone of those assistants a hundred times over. No, this was another guy. A guy who had chased him all evening, who'd foreseen any of his moves, who'd sent hunters on his heels._

_A guy who could see through his tricks._

_His body indicated the enigma to Aoko's father, and his mind wondered how fast the other guy would solve it. It might have been Hakuba, only the blond detective would've shown up some time or other. This one kept hidden in the shadows, like himself did. He was flying around the tower, finding clues, giving orders, like a modern Sherlock Holmes._

_Sherlock Holmes… that reminded him of something. Something he'd said long ago. Something another person had said. Something that was, one way or the other, relevant to the present situation…_

_The present situation suddenly reminded itself to him as the screen as hung over the clock's face came flapping against him, lashed by the strong wind the copter's closer blades were producing._

'_Crap,' he thought, sweatdroppîng. "If the copter's so close I won't be able to use the handglider."_

_He was thinking about the best way to escape when a deafening sound he knew all too well almost caused him to lose his grip on the clock – a gunshot. Not directed at him, for a change, but at one of the screen's straps. The wind lifted the material and he saw, for a fraction of second, a shadowy figure standing at the copter's sliding door. The man was tall, young. Probably as young as himself. Then the screen lowered again._

_Another gunshot and it flapped more strongly than ever, one of his sides now loose. Only two straps remained, maintaining the upper one onto the clock._

_He trick was broken and he knew it. Funny, though, it had to happen now._

_Unfortunately for the tantei, a magician's soul is a fount of imagination. There would always be tricks, one after the other, each outdoing the previous in perceptiveness and skill._

_He lifted his cardgun and shot, twice, at the remaining straps. In one nice, grand flutter, the screen broke loose and began unroll itself to the ground – and he fell with it in its heavy folds._

_Changing from Kaito Kid to one Kuroba Kaito was only a matter of seconds, as the fabric smoothed itself down on the ground. From that point, mixing with the astounded crowd was not a problem. He glanced up at the copter, which blades seemed to wheel angrily in the air, and grinned. A very interesting factor seemed to have intervened in the game. Future heists would probably prove to be quite entertaining with such a rival, and escaping would become even harder – even if, for that time, he'd won. Rather, he'd done what he came there to do._

_He spotted Aoko out of the crowd. Her face was bittersweet and she was smiling, a slightly sad smile._

_He approached her with a rose ready to appear in his hand, knowing what to do and how to do it, knowing what her delighted gaze at him would be like. This was the reason why he was always a magician with her – because he loved her smile._

_-_

_Shinichi jumped from the copter even before it had actually landed. Oblivious to the wind preventing him to advance clearly, and to Megure-keibu shouting in his back to wait for him, he rushed towards the crows gathered under the clock tower. He knew fairly well he had a very remote chance to find the thief in such a mass of people – but he also knew that the normal behaviour would be for him to run away from the area – and, consequently, this kaitou would probably still be hanging around inside it. He was foreseeing, not only moves, but trains of thought._

_He started with inspecting the large screen that had fallen from the clock – he'd thought he'd be embarrassed with people around it but the crowd seemed to keep clear from it, as though it might blow up. It was simple, coarse fabric, and did not seem booby-trapped – well, of course not, he thought. If it had been it would have been way too dangerous to jump down with it. Correction, _more_ dangerous. The sole fact of jumping was already madness._

_It was so simple, so perfectly calculated. The way the screen would flutter heavily to the ground, the perfect hiding place it would provide with its fall, the probably, slight opening of the handglider to lessen the shock – then, immediately, the melting with the crowd, unseen, unknown. The thief was either a genius or crazy – or probably both._

_As he pushed his way through the people, Shinichi's well-trained mind went over the whole operation again. Nothing had been left to accident or chance – the moves and changes were following on, minutely fitting, in an incredible split-second timing. It was great work, he was good looser enough to admit it – the mark of months of preparation and tactic thinking. Obviously this thief was greater-scaled than any one of those he'd met before._

_Shinichi knew he ought to be upset and furious – after all, he'd very nearly caught him and had let him escape at the last moment (but he couldn't rightfully say he'd expected such a reaction). Yet, strangely enough, in spite of all his ego and detective pride, he couldn't pull himself to. Rather, he esteemed the mind – the man – whatever._

_He scanned the faces he was brushing past – some angry, some excited, all of them animated – but he didn't feed much hope about recognizing the thief. He hadn't even seen his face – no, he was rather expecting some involuntary reaction, a sudden move, an insistent stare. And even then, he wouldn't have any proof – only an impression that wouldn't be worth anything._

_He glanced up at the clock to check on the time. Right in front of him, a teenage about his age produced a rose, handing it over to a girl that looked surprisingly like Ran – but that wasn't what caught his eye. That trick with the rose… it felt vaguely familiar. As though buried somewhere very deep and distant, he couldn't quite make out, as though…_

_This is stupid, he thought with a shrug, and walked away from the girl, the guy and the rose – he had no time for dealing with past's myths, being too busy with present ones._

-

**And so, this is the end – definitely now – of my Poker Face trilogy (that was meant to be a oneshot and blah blah blah). I may be re-using the characters with this relationship in some other stories, but this one has reached its end.**


End file.
